


Something Dark

by Reality_aborted



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Gore, M/M, Multi, Non-Canonical Character Death, Shatsome - Freeform, Swearing, Urban Magic Yogs, Violence, umy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:59:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reality_aborted/pseuds/Reality_aborted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>' The baseline was dark and relentless. Heavy, shaking, vibrations ran through the soles of their feet. It raced through their bodies like electricity causing them to convulse rhythmically, pressing into one another; sweat soaked backs pressed against heaving chests. Breathing ragged, floor sticky under heavy boots and dagger heels. '</p><p>When the Garbage Court hold a warehouse party, they gain an unwanted guest, discover a new enemy they never considered to be a real threat, and Sips surprises everyone. UMY</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Something a bit longer, a bit darker and a bit more ambitious.

The baseline was dark and relentless. Heavy, shaking, vibrations ran through the soles of their feet. It raced through their bodies like electricity causing them to convulse rhythmically, pressing into one another; sweat soaked backs pressed against heaving chests. Breathing ragged, floor sticky under heavy boots and dagger heels. The revellers clung to each other desperate for the release of losing themselves completely. The music, the heat, the haze of cheap potent alcohol and something else wrapped around them, something that made them forget the world, abandon responsibility and only care about the moment. Only craving the hot press of a mouth on their neck, the sharp graze teeth and the heady thrill of reckless abandon. This is what kept people coming back to the Garbage courts parties. The risk of danger and dark longing. People went missing of course, but the crowd still came back, bringing more with them, addicted to the thrill of it all. Strobe lights flashed across faces and steel beams, and the dancers moved in still frames, eyes closed and jumping as the pace picked up, wet hair clinging to foreheads and hands grasping for the intangible. 

Slightly raised above the crowd, behind a black velvet rope stolen from an art gallery, lounged the courts King in all his trashy brilliance, resplendent on a torn and faded chaise lounge. Tonight, a gleaming golden crown adorned his head, its extravagance contrasting with his old salmon pink shirt and white suit pants. He sipped on a Martini and swirled the olive in the drink, watching as the party goes writhed in from of him. If he was honest he didn't really care for the electronic music they were pumping out tonight, but he had to hand it to the DJ, it did complement the grimy industrial atmosphere of the warehouse that they procured for the night's festivities. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it, but then again, with a liberal sprinkling of Smiths charm they would enjoy pretty much anything. They could be playing the soundtrack to Annie and no one would have given a single shit. He took another sip of his drink and grimaced. Looking at the drink as if had personally affronted him. Something was really wrong with his drink and he was damned if he was going to put up with sub par booze.  
“Smiffy this Martini is utter shit.”  
“So, I didn't make it” The kelpie grumbled from the wall he had been leant up against watching the crowd, no doubt looking for some poor pretty thing ready to fall into his arms.  
“I don’t care Seabiscuit, it’s your problem now” He waggled his half drunk drink at Smith, smirking at Smiths scowling face as he pushed himself away from the wall, snatching the cup from Sips’ hand and spilling most of its contents over his own hand.  
Smith brought his hand to his mouth sucking the Martini off of one finger in a way that what was meant to be seductive, but but didn't quite hit the mark. He frowned at the weirdly bitter taste eying the drink warily. “Fuck that’s horrid.” He wiped the rest on his jeans and stalked away to the bar, muttering something under his breathe that Sips didn't catch over the noise of the party.  
Smiling to himself, Sips reached a hand down and ran his fingers through Ross’s hair. He had been sitting on the floor against the chair, keeping Sips company while Trott was off sorting something out. No doubt at some point, most likely post-kill full of adrenalin and still smelling of blood and sex, Smith would drag Ross out to dance and shamelessly grope in the fray of heaving bodies behind the rope. But for now it was nice to have him here, a reassuring presence at his side.  
Ross leaned his head into Sips hand enjoying the gentle drag of nails on his scalp.  
“Where’s Trott?” Ross asked, looking up at Sips with his stained glass eyes, Sips’ fingers still running through his short dark hair.  
“He said something about sorting out a problem out back.”  
Ross frowned at this, shifting as if about to get up.  
“Nothing sinister, don’t worry” he tried to reassuring him by pressing his nails a little harder as he dragged his fingers to the nape of Ross’ neck, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “It’s just some stock problem, probably not enough shitty beer.”  
Ross settled back down, relaxing back against the ratty chair, careful not to put his full weight on the brittle wood. One of the legs had already broken earlier in the evening and was now being propped up with a cinder block they had found lurking around the place.  
They stayed like that for a while, Ross’ eyes closed, head resting on the Sips leg as he scratched through his hair. Smith came back with a fresh drink thrusting it into Sips’ hand before walking out into the crowd. They parted for him, intoxicated naive eyes tracing the lines of his body. Knowing Fae exchanged glances and got out of the way. Quickly he disappeared from view. Sips hoped that he would come back in something of a better mood than the one he had been in for the last couple of days.  
About a week ago Trott had put a few restrictions on the activities of the court. There had been grumblings around the city of a hit having been put out on the Garbage court. Although they didn't know by who or had even seen any signs of it even being more than silly fae rumour, Trott had taken it seriously. Collectively they had pissed off enough people in their time for it to be perfectly valid. This meant that they were now only allowed out in at least pairs like some kind of juvenile buddy system. As a result Smith had been put on something of an unwilling diet for the last week, becoming increasingly grouchy as the week went on. Not being able to take being under each other's feet for much longer they had decided to organise a party. Aside from keeping up their presence in the city, it could also work as a release valve for everyone to let off all the frustration that had built up. A place where they were in control and could indulge. As a happy plus, it would be like a moth to a flame for the would be assassin, if there even was one. If nothing happened tonight it would mean that it was all probably just a load of crap and they could go back to whatever passed for normal in the strange life they had carved out for themselves. Besides, as much as Sips loved his little found family, they could get pretty tiresome sometimes. A four way polyamorous relationship is all well and good but sometimes a guy needed a cold beer, a game of bowling and some alone time.  
Sips tried his new drink sighing at the pleasant, if slightly too strong taste. Smith having obviously just decided to hop the bar and make it himself, no doubt being a little over generous with the gin. He was going to have to have a word with Trott about the bar staff he had hired for tonight. If he had to rely on Smith making his drinks all night he was going to end up with alcohol poisoning. 

**

The music continued to pulse and the lights flashed catching strange inhuman shadows, glinting off of horns, tails and teeth. It was so familiar to Sips now, so much so that despite the noise he managed to fall asleep in his chair feeling unusually drowsy. Half drunk Martini slipping from his hands silently in the loud room and soaking into the old foam of the chair, adding to the collection of stains.  
A little while later he jolted awake, some unknown new noise bringing him back to consciousness. He looked around in mild confusion, noticing that the VIP section had cleared out a bit; Ross was no longer at his feet and Smith and Trott were still nowhere to be seen. The only people that still milled around the area was a few lucky or unlucky humans, depending on your perspective, a passed out faerie, pretty face slack and neon green hair a mess, and a solitary bartender quietly cleaning glasses. 

Sips stretched, cracking the stiffness in his back, swearing under his breath as he rubbed his forehead trying to force a niggling headache away. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with fluff and the room swam slightly. He decided to chance the bar again, figuring that even an idiot couldn't fuck up uncapping a beer. He easily managed to get the bartender's attention, almost as if the guy had been waiting for Sips to call him over, Sips brushed it off as the bartender not having anything to do. The young bartender came over tucking his cloth into the waistband of his black apron, straightening his shirt as he walked round the bar. He was very young with short-ish fair hair that stuck up in no real order or style, the kind of disarray that comes with subconscious hair ruffling, on top of all this he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and a deathly pale face. Sips kind of understood why, the kid didn't have a magical bone in his body, even Sips could tell that, making this party full of predators and dark corners an exceptionally dangerous place for a young thing like himself.  
“Yes?” the kid managed to squeak out, unable to look Sips in the eye.  
Sips went to ask for a beer, when all he managed was a weird croak. Clearing his throat he tried again, he must have been dryer than he thought.  
“B’er ‘ease” was all he managed  
The kid quirked a small smile, the briefest flash of dull teeth.  
“Sorry Sir, I didn't catch that?”  
Sips didn't like this kid. He tried to speak but couldn't make any intelligible sound come out. Going to stand up he realised just how lethargic he was, his limbs felt heavy like he was under water. The kid easily pushed him back down into his seat with a firm press of Sip’ shoulder.  
The boy wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Sighing to himself as he finally met Sips’ eyes. They were wide and pale.  
“I’m sorry about this, I really am.” He pulled a small pistol out and held it against Sips’ forehead. “I know it’s a cliché, but this really is nothing personal, you’re just on the wrong side.” Sips could feel the tremor in the boy’s hand, slight hesitation before pulling the trigger.  
“I really wouldn't do that if i was you.” A voice said out of nowhere.  
The boy had tensed up suddenly as a sharp coldness was held against his throat. He reflexively swallowed, Adams apple pushing against the knife's edge.  
“Drop the gun kid, and I might not feed you to Smith.” Trott's voice was deep and commanding.  
“I’m not a fucking garbage disposal Trott” Smith grumbled from somewhere behind Sips “That's Ross”  
“Hey” Ross protested from the other side of him.  
They continued bickering behind him, but all Sips could hear was his own pulse in his ears blending with the industrial pound of the music and a hyper awareness of a gun barrel still pressed to his forehead. A bead of cold sweat traced a line down his back collecting on his waistband.  
“Shut up both of you.” Trott commanded his voice as sharp as his knife. The pair behind him shut up immediately.  
Trott's knife pushed harder against the boy’s throat a dark trickle of blood staining his white shirt.  
“Drop. It.” His voice low and menacing, barely above a growl.  
After a slow heartbeat the gun lowered and Sips’ could finally see the fear in the boys face again. His eyes were shining with unshod tears desperately trying to hold himself together. No doubt knowing just how much shit he was in.  
“You good Sips?” Trott gave him a visual once over.  
Sips nodded cold fear beginning to seep away.  
“Ross.” Trott spoke over his shoulder.  
The gargoyle walked around the chaise lounge and grabbed the boy by his collar dragging him towards the back room, tail whipping about dangerously. Trott and Smith followed behind him.  
Releasing a long shaking breath Sips managed to push himself up out of his chair, it creaked under the pressure and slipped slightly on its makeshift leg. Somehow the adrenalin that was coursing through his body had managed to give him the energy to move. The room spun slightly and it took all he had not to throw up on the floor. After a few more calming breathes he followed the others into the dark back room, closing the door behind them as Smith turned on the light.  
**  
The boys face crumpled when Ross’ heavy fist smashed into his jaw, only just managing not to fall off of his chair. His left eye had been rendered entirely unusable by the second blow, and the third had left him missing tooth, remaining teeth stained red and crooked. The boy whimpered and spat blood and a tooth onto the floor. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, swinging back and forth slightly, making the room feel unsettling and far more sinister than a janitorial cupboard should. They could still hear the dull pound of music through the walls, the tuneless thud of the base travelling through wood and concrete.  
“I’m not going to ask this again, who sent you?” Trott was perched on the edge of a chair in front of the boy, hard stare trained on the kid’s face.  
Tear tracks lined the boys face, cutting streaks through the grime and blood that had collected there. He sniffed painfully, nose obviously broken in a few places.  
“Who would be dumb enough to to send a fucking human to take out our King?” Smith snarled, eyes black and glowing faintly with barely restrained anger.  
“He’s not a King.”  
“What was that, fucker?” Smith sprang forward, stopped only by Ross’ hand on his shoulder  
“He’s not a king” The boy said definitely, staring back at the kelpie in a moment of reckless confidence. “He’s a human. He’s on the wrong side. He shouldn't be hanging around with demons like you three.” He spat a half congealed lump of blood onto Sips’ dress shoes. “Besides, he’s the weakest link in your ‘court’. How dumb would you have to be to make the easiest target their king.” The boy half laughed mocking Smith’s tone, pain still evident on his face. He had obviously given up on the idea of making it out of the room alive, but that didn’t make the blows hurt any less.  
“He does far more then ‘hang out’ you prick! Fancy a taster?” Smith ground out through gritted teeth “Why don’t you come for a ride?” His salacious grin was all danger.  
“Smith.” Trott warned. The pair shared a brief look, an unspoken conversation passing between them and Smith settled back down, not without winking at the kid in way that could only be described at positively predatory. Trott turned back to the boy who was tentatively touching his eye and flinching at the obvious destruction he could feel under his fingertips.  
“Humans sent you? Not another court?” Trott asked trying to bring them back on track.  
The boy sneered “Some of us are done with you lot terrorising the City, thinking we’re no better than cattle. We’re gonna trap and kill every last one of you. Starting with your human pet!”  
No one had noticed that Sips had taken the knife from Trott’s hands, until it was plunged into the soft stomach of the boy. The kid choked and spluttered in shock, coughing a fine mist of blood, staining his pale lips like cheap lipstick.  
Stepping closer to the boy so his mouth was almost pressed to his ear, ensuring that he heard every last word he said.  
“Call me a pet will ya, you bastard. I am the king of this court” Sips twisted the knife and the boy moaned in pain ”Listen here kid, because this is the god's honest truth, if your friends come after us they will die, like your going to in a bit. Although they won’t suffer nearly as much as you will. Do you want to know why?”  
The boy coughed up more blood, whimpering.  
“”I said. Do you want to know why?” He yanking they boys head back cruelly, fist in his messy hair.  
“Ye.. ye,yes” The boy managed to stutter out weakly.  
Smiling at the response he leant in even closer “Because you make a really shitty Martini kid.” He pushed Trotts blade deeper into the boy’s stomach. He screeched in pain, hands flailing weakly at the sips’, who still grasp the knife.  
“You had dinner yet Smiffy?” He called over at the Kelpie, who like the rest of the court were standing there in surprise.  
“Um, no, not yet.”  
“Well then grubs up, mate” The British colloquialism sounding strange on his canadian tongue.  
Sips stepped away from the kid letting go of his hair and yanking the blade out as he went. The kid shuddered and fell to the side off of the chair and onto the floor, still alive and desperately trying to stop the blood pumping out of his stomach.  
Sips wiped the blood off of his hand and knife on his already ruined white suit pants. He handed the knife back to Trott, who took it with a sigh and slid it back into its discrete holster on his belt.  
Smith had stepped past him and climbed on top of the cowering boy. He skipped his usual ‘fuck’em drown’em’ routine, in lieu of just ripping the kid's throat out. His screams turning into a watery gurgle as blood filled what was left of his oesophagus.  
“Jeez Smiffy, I don’t wanna see that shit. You could’ve waited for us to leave the room.”  
Smith shrugged and briefly glancing at the others with a mischievous smirk the boy convulsing in shock underneath him, he grinned a inhuman sharp toothed grin at his partners and buried his face back in what was left of the kid’s throat, .  
Sighing in affectionate irritation Sips turned away, slinging an arm around Trotts shoulders. The selkie had been standing there unimpressed, arms crossed, annoyed at not being able to finish his interrogation. Too many questions didn’t get asked and the aggravated him to no end. Sips pulled him in close and led him out of the room, leaving Smith to finish up. Ross’ tail come round to wrap around Trotts waist affectionately.  
Adrenalin beginning to leave their bodies they collapsed onto the old chaise lounge. Trott under Sips’ arm, head rested on his chest, soft hair brushing against Sips’ nose. Ross settled onto the floor again, head rested on Trott’s thigh this time.  
They sat in silence for a while, each of them running the events of the last hour back through their mind. Concern etched on all their faces.  
“So the humans want to kill us now?” Ross asked finally, breaking the silence, eyes watching the oblivious party goers.  
“That's nothing new Sunshine.” Trott smiled running his hand over the ridges of Ross’ tail.  
“Yeah but they seemed pretty serious.”  
“They sent a child” Trott dead panned.  
“We've seen off worse, haven’t we Scrotty” They all jumped and looked around to see a grinning Smith. He walked around them to stand in front of the lounging group. His shirt had been discarded, no doubt used to wipe the gore off of his face. A small trace of red still stained his neck hidden by the shadow of his jaw.  
“You all done out back?” Trott asked eyeing the grinning Kelpie  
“Yes, Mum.” He smirked “One of the guys are getting rid of the left overs.”  
“Good” Trott nodded resting his head back on Sips’ chest closing his eyes.  
“Come on Ross, let's go and enjoy some of this party.” Smith held his hand out to Ross, an excited shine in his now normal eyes.  
Ross got up and the pair walked out into the crowd, hands all over each other before they even made it out of Sips line of sight.  
“Are you really not worried about all this?” Sips asked quietly, running his fingers down the back of Trott’s dark button up shirt.  
“We’ll play it by ear I think, it may be a bigger problem than it seems.”  
“Hmmm?” Sips’ fingers slipped under the Trott’s shirt, the contact causing his skin to tingle pleasantly.  
“We’re not gonna ignore it, but, we have enough problems, without adding a new one.” Trott sighed enjoying the gentle caress of Sips’ fingers dancing over his lower back.  
“You're not wrong there.” Sips smiled, gently lifting the selkies chin off of his chest so that he could brush a delicate kiss on his lips. “Thank’s for saving my life, by the way” He whispered, the heat of his breath warm on Trott's face.  
“Seems like you can handle yourself pretty well without us” Trott smirked, nose bumping against Sips’ kissing the corner of his mouth coyly.  
“Well this old man still has a few tricks up his sleeves.”  
Trott laughed and within moments they both forgot about the recent danger, losing themselves in the softness of one another's lips, the heat of the room, the flash of strobe lights and the constant beat of something heavy and dark.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I'm starting to get the hang of writing again. Hopefully this came across okay, it still feels clumsy in places but I could spend forever changing things.  
> Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you want to see me follow up this story line. I have a few ideas.  
> I posted this in the UMY collection, I hope that okay  
> Find me on tumblr if you want. http://reality-aborted.tumblr.com/


End file.
